


Fade Into You

by Apherion



Series: Spideypool Songfics [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Assisted Suicide, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Songfic, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apherion/pseuds/Apherion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you were the ocean and I was the sun, if the day made me heavy and gravity won... If I was the red and you were the blue, I could just fade into you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade Into You

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Clare Bowen and Sam Palladio's song Fade Into You. I apologize in advance.

Rain tapped lightly against the roof of the modest house they lived. It dripped from the shingles, into muddying puddles, the sounds soothing with the thunder rolling in the distance. He could smell the wet pines from the window that was left open, the wind sighing through it with cold drops to be cleaned up later.

‘Later’ because Peter’s sighs were of a different nature, his fingers pressing into his body, searching for release as they massaged against his prostate, and he bucked his hips against them. A whimper barely left his throat, fucking himself in time to the sound outside. He could feel how he longed for more, but Wade was away and wouldn’t be back for a long time.

He gently lay forward, still fingering himself as his face pressed against Wade’s pillow. His scent filled him in multiple ways, his eyes darkening and his body reacting more readily to his sensual touches. The white noise was deafening until he heard boots on their hardwood floor, more specifically, the creak in the doorway.

“Don’t stop, baby boy,” an awestruck Wade whispered to him. The panic that filled him turned to arousal, and Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this hard as he rolled his body against his fingers spreading him wider. A shiver moved through him as he heard the pull of laces untying and the consecutive thud of work boots being taken off. His cock strained to be touched when the buckle of his belt came undone, the sound of his jeans crumpling to the floor, and the rustle of his shirt being cast aside.

“I got to come home early,” he murmured, his feet padding over the floor carefully. He stiffened when he felt his breath against his flushed skin, slick with sweat. “Are you happy to see me?” Peter could only imagine he was tracing just over his skin, not touching it, but he could _feel_ it. He moaned piteously into the pillow, to which Wade chuckled throatily, and his fingers traced up his inner thigh, until his hand gently closed over Peter’s wrist, taking it and pulling his hand away.

“I thought so,” he breathed, as Peter felt all of his warmth covering his back, his lips at his ear. Peter felt the dampness of his hair, too, against his cheek as his face was turned to kiss his lips. The stretch of him entering was sweet relief, the exact thing he had been looking for almost since he had started. This was what curled his toes and made him arch his back.

Smooth and strong, fluid movements had Peter pressing back against him, his hands grasping at Wade’s to feel him deeper, to be consumed by him. He moaned into his ear, biting at the lobe as they moved against each other. Wade’s hands were bruising him, but he was okay with that. He liked this feeling, coupled with the warm liquid in his body and the wet spot on the bed.

Wade nuzzled his hair, laying on top of him—almost crushing—but Peter was too preoccupied with how good he felt to complain about that.

“That was a nice welcome home gift,” he breathed, and Peter laughed, pushing up from the bed.

“Get off, you’re heavy,” he complained half-heartedly.

“And whose fault is that?”

“Yours,” Peter replied, a smile on his lips and a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a while. He hated it when Wade would be gone for months on end.

“Nope—it’s yours.”

“How’s it my fault?” Wade pulled away from him, laying down beside him to kiss him properly for the first time in forever.

“You make me happy—happy people eat.”

“That’s flawed logic,” Peter reminded him, but he grinned all the same, right up until the point Wade’s muscled arms pulled him into a tight hug. “Cah bref!” Peter choked, his eyes widening. Wade loosened his grip, cupping Peter’s face and kissing him deeply, tenderly. The swoon in his stomach was enough to make Peter’s head spin, but still he managed to wrap an arm around the back of Wade’s neck to bring him closer.

They took that moment to breathe each other in, lips connecting repeatedly until Peter’s felt raw on Wade’s work-chapped lips. Their foreheads pressed together, their eyes watching each other as if they had to remind themselves that yes, the other was real.

“I love you,” Peter whispered, almost emotional. Wade’s dark eyes crinkled in a smile, as if he was hearing this for the first time, not the thousandth (or so). Lips caressed lightly over Peter’s, a whisper against them, too.

“I love you, baby boy. Always.” Peter believed him, and always had.

 

They had grown up together, best friends even though Wade was a few years older. Sometimes, he’d come over with bruises from the fights that he got into, and Peter would scold him, but he’d always kiss them to make them better because ‘That’s what mama does for me, and they always heal faster!’

When Peter’s parents died in a car accident and he had to move away, Wade had promised he’d come to him. He was almost eighteen, after all. ‘Call me and give me your address—I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Still crying, Peter had nodded and wiped at his face just as Wade pressed a kiss to his forehead, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘Don’t cry, baby boy. You won’t lose me, too.’ Peter had made him promise, and when he had arrived at his aunt and uncle’s home, he called. Wade didn’t pick up, but he had left a message saying he’d be there, waiting for him.

It had been a long wait.

Every day, Peter had hoped he’d see him, but Wade didn’t come. He’d call, but Wade would never answer, and at first, Peter would leave messages until Aunt May said it was impolite to fill up an answering machine.

It had been hard on him, not knowing what had become of the boy that knew him best. Aunt May and Uncle Ben had told him he should stop waiting around for him. ‘You have other friends, Peter.’ But they weren’t Wade—something about him made him different than Mary Jane and Harry.

After the first year, Peter had stopped calling—tired of not getting through and listening to everyone harp on him about it. He had kept a journal, detailing every interesting thing that happened while they were apart. Mary Jane and Harry had both noticed him carrying it with him, watching him as he’d jot down thoughts and even the sudden interest in photography—appending photos to the journal.

‘What’s with the diary?’ Harry had finally teased one day, managing to wrest it from Peter’s grip.

‘Give it back!’ Peter jumped to reach for it, but Harry’s growth spurt had made him about as tall as Wade had been when he last seen him, and Peter was still pretty small. Harry had laughed and ran with it, his longer legs creating distance between them enough for the curious boy to rifle through its contents. ‘Stop it, Harry! That’s not for you!’ It was cursory at first and in jest, but the journal had an entry for every day that week—and pictures of him, MJ, and Peter. He stopped running and actually read some of the journal before Peter had snatched it back from him.

‘Peter…’ Harry had given him a perturbed look, but Peter had been too busy shoving the journal into his backpack to notice it.

‘That was private.’

‘It looked like a memoir for your imaginary boyfriend.’ That had startled Peter. Harry had never truly voice his opinion until now. There had been a dark look in his eyes.

‘He’s not imaginary!’ Peter had shouted once he found his voice. ‘He’s going to come here soon. I know it!’

‘It’s been three years, Pete. He isn’t coming for you. Just give up on him already.’ He had taken a step towards Peter, but he had held his ground, not fully comprehending what was happening.

‘No, he’s my friend. He said he’d come.’ Harry had taken another step towards him, and Peter had stumbled over his feet, backtracking and falling to the ground.

‘But he hasn’t. I’m your friend, too. Am I not enough?’ Harry had advanced on him, kneeling down and caressing his cheek. ‘I could be, Pete, if you let me.’ Peter had shaken his head.

‘N-no…’ It had been a whimper, the first of many to follow.

 

Harry shut the door to the room, taking a deep breath once he was outside of it. A team of medical specialists milled about the outer wall of said room, carefully administering gaseous drugs to the only occupant inside. He stepped into the elevator that would take him to his room, swallowing down the emotion he felt.

It was his fault it came to this, after all. He had forced himself onto Peter, and it had only caused him to withdraw. Harry, in an act of desperation to get Peter back, found Wade for him, and in a fit of anger and hurt, revealed that he was dead. Brain cancer. ‘He’s never coming back for you, Peter. So…just give it up and let me love you.’ But that news broke him. All he could ever say was ‘no’ and ‘he promised’.

His aunt and uncle agreed to let Harry look after him—they didn’t know about the rape, and the promise of the best care money could buy without cost to them only clenched the deal. They got to see him, scheduled visitations every other day for an hour. They always had worried looks on their faces.

‘He keeps talking about Wade, like he’s with him.’

‘Our doctors are working with him—saying he’s doing this to protect himself from the trauma. It’s still too soon to expect him to get over this. We need to give him time.’ Harry couldn’t tell them the real reason why that was because that would be admitting that he was committing a crime every time Peter thought he saw Wade. But it was the only thing that gave Harry peace, and if he couldn’t have Peter outright, at least he could pretend to be Peter’s Wade. And so he took all of the journals that Peter had kept and memorized the parts where he’d reminisce about their time together.

It was hard for him, emotionally, but to make Peter normal again—no, he’d never be normal, but he would be happy.

 

Peter woke up, groggy from the day before, the windows shut and the rain mopped up, and he smiled into Wade’s pillow. He’d come home; he could smell the pancakes. “I missed you,” he whispered. He lifted his head, finding the pancakes on a tray with some orange juice and a note.

_Eat up; I’ll see you when you’re finished. XOXO Wade_

Peter smiled, betting the man had gone out for a hike or something like that and would be back soon. He ate all of the food and drank the orange juice, and then stood up to stretch. He yawned and blinked blearily back at the bed. Wade still wasn’t back yet, so he could take a nap, right? It couldn’t hurt if he took a nap.

He crawled back into bed, his arms wrapping around the pillow that had Wade’s scent on it, and drifted back into sleep.

 

It wasn’t until later that day that Harry came back to check on Peter, but something wasn’t right. He glanced at the monitors that had kept him stable for over six months and his eyes widened. “H-help…” he breathed, looking around for someone—anyone—to assist. “Peter’s—”

“Harry, it’s better this way.”

“No it’s not! He was mine!” He shouted at Felicia, seeing her behind him. She shook her head, stepping closer to him and turning off the monitor. “You took him from me.”

“No, Harry, I stepped in so we could avoid a complete scandal. If word ever got out about this, OsCorp would be ruined.”

“I paid good money for those doctors—” Felicia’s hand struck him across the face, and he stared at her, stunned.

“What would you have done if Peter realized it was you, and the drugs couldn’t keep him quiet anymore? You might have paid off the doctors, but that boy was suffering, and you were only prolonging it.”

“Why would you…Felicia…”

“Because it was the right thing, Harry and you’d hate yourself more if you let this go on for any longer than it did.”

 

It wasn’t bright white, like everyone led you to believe, but it was warm and inviting. Peter blinked into the sunlight glaring down from overhead and his face broke into the first true smile since his parents’ deaths. There Wade was, with a flower—a sunflower—waiting for him. He noticed Wade falter for a minute as he approached.

“But you weren’t supposed to be here for…a long time, Petey…” Peter just shook his head.

“I…missed you,” he told him, emotions choking his voice and tears clouding his eyes. “Is that…for me?” He asked uncertainly, not sure how to approach Wade—his Wade. The nineteen year-old blinked at Peter as if he had just pointed out something untrue.

“Oh! Right—yes, yes this is for you…that’s not weird…right?” He asked him, gauging Peter for his reaction, hope written all over his face. He even fiddled with the sunflower, unsure if to offer it or throw it away. Peter bit his lip, blushing deeply before glancing up at him before swiftly leaning in to kiss his cheek chastely. His hand settled over Wade’s for a moment as he received the flower.

“N-not weird at all,” he replied, the petals of the flower brushing his face, slightly hiding behind it. Wade’s face finally gave him the smile he’d been waiting for, and the older of the two offered his hand to the younger.

“Do…you want to go with me, baby boy?” Peter’s eyes glittered softly at him, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be good—I can tell you about…” Peter’s voice trailed off, and Wade said quickly,

“There’s lots of stuff here—I can tell you about this place. I don’t know if it’s Heaven—it must be since you’re here, but I don’t really know if I really believe in that—maybe it just means it’s the afterlife… I really don’t know. I wasn’t good at this religion stuff and Dad never really talked about it.” Peter chuckled lightly at Wade’s ramblings, having almost forgotten how fast he could talk. Peter took one of Wade’s hands, their fingers lacing together.

“I’d like that,” he beamed at him. And he went with Wade further into this other world as their souls intertwined.

_There’ll be no trace that one was once two after I fade into you…_


End file.
